Playing By The Rules
by justinebeckoning
Summary: Drake has a few brilliant ideas for the boys' Christmas party. Slash.
1. Chapter 1

**Fic:** Playing By The Rules  
**Author:** justinebeckoning  
**Pairing:** Drake/Josh  
**Rating:** a strong K+ to mild T  
**Disclaimer:** I am not Dan Schneider and therefore do not own anything. However, if Dan Schneider wants some slashy ideas for the Christmas movie, that's fine by me…  
**Warnings:** slight girl/girl. Oh, and if you're like me and jannikajade and the thought of Josh in an apron and a Santa hat is a little too much for your heart to bear, don't say I didn't warn you. ;)  
**Author's Note:** And my elusive Christmas!fic surfaces, finally! A little something I came up with in honor of "Best Christmas Ever" (hooray!). Not only is this the first time I've written a chaptered fic, but I also realized this is the first time I haven't been working from an established relationship with the boys, so I'm a teeny bit nervous.

"Honey!" Walter yelled, sneaking yet another glance at the living room clock. "We're going to be late!" Drake rolled his eyes, enjoying his stepfather's nervous pacing from the comfort of his spot on the couch. "It's almost five forty-five. Aren't you ready yet?" he called, his voice rising in pitch as he strained to shout up the stairs to his wife.

"Easy, Walter," Drake said, taking a swig of his Mocha Cola.

"You okay, Dad?" Josh said, emerging from the kitchen.

"I would be, if your mother would hurry up and get down here so we could leave. This could be a very important evening for me." Walter fidgeted with his bowtie, leaving it even more lopsided than before. He and Audrey were attending the San Diego Weatherman's Association's annual holiday banquet, and Walter had been a frantic, excited mess all day in anticipation of the event. "I've heard on very good authority that the Weatherman of the Year award is being presented to yours truly." He beamed, then looked at the clock again. "Honey!"

"_You're _getting Weatherman of the Year?" Drake scoffed in disbelief. "Why, is Bruce Winchell in the hospital or something?"

"What?" Audrey froze in terror in the hallway entrance, earring in mid-clasp. "Bruce Winchell is in the hospital?"

"No, dear," Walter said through gritted teeth. "But the ratings for our six o'clock news shows have been beating Channel 11 for six months now. And whose weather forecasts do you think are responsible for that?"

Drake gave a mock sigh. "Guess that's what happened when Bruce Winchell got that haircut, huh?"

Audrey smoothed her hands over her evening gown and shook her head sadly. "I know," she agreed. "What a loss. All that beautiful hair, gone—just like that." Walter glared at Drake.

"Y-you look really nice, Mom," Josh said, jumping in to diffuse the tense situation.

Audrey smiled at him thankfully as she grabbed her purse off the dining room table. "Now, you boys know the rules, right? We're trusting you two by letting you have this party while we're gone tonight."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Drake said, rising from the couch. "No drinking, no breaking things, and everybody out by midnight. We know." After weeks of begging, Walter and Audrey had finally agreed to let the boys throw a Christmas party. Josh returned Drake's grin over Audrey's head. With their parents gone all evening and Megan headed out to Janie's house for a sleepover, Drake had high hopes for tonight.

As soon as Walter and Audrey were safely out the door, Drake ran upstairs and retrieved the plastic bag from where he'd shoved it underneath the desk. Satisfied with his brilliant idea, he hummed to himself as he headed back down the stairs. This was going to be the coolest Christmas bash _ever_.

When he reached the kitchen, he was greeted by an apron-clad, Santa-hat-wearing Josh pulling a tray of shrimp—what did he call them? canopies?—out of the oven. Drake chuckled to himself. Josh was so excited about this whole party thing. Sure, there were the times that Josh had threatened Drake if he didn't stay for at least half an hour at one of his little nerd get-togethers, or the times that Drake had conned Josh into keeping things quiet to their parents by letting him hang out at one of the parties he threw, but this was the first time he and Josh had actually hosted a party together. He'd planned a full menu of fancy Christmas hors d'oeuvres; Drake would've been fine with pizza, but he was happy to humor his brother. After all, seeing Josh so happy made him happy. And besides, it occurred to him as his brother turned to him, Josh did look pretty nice in that apron after all. He shook that random thought out of his head after a second and pulled a chair over to the doorway leading into the foyer.

"You ready for our fantastic Christmas party, brotha?" Josh was busying himself arranging the hors d'oeuvres on a tree-shaped platter.

"You bet," Drake said. "And I happen to have a surprise that'll make it ten times more fantastic. Look." He reached into the bag and proudly displayed a twig full of leaves and red berries. "Yep, one of these beauties is going on every doorway in the house."

Josh scrunched his eyebrows together and laughed. "Like you really need an excuse to kiss every girl here tonight."

Drake hopped down from the chair after attaching the mistletoe to the door frame. "Yeah," he sighed contentedly. He winked. "But don't be jealous. I'll make sure that you get lucky tonight, too, brotha." That came out a little wrong, but before he could worry about clarifying himself, he heard a car horn sounding in the driveway, followed by footsteps heading down the stairs. Megan appeared in the doorway a moment later.

"What are you boobs up to?" she asked, sleeping bag in hand.

"Only getting ready for the greatest Christmas party in the history of Belleview High School," Josh responded, walking over to stand beside her. He gestured up toward the door frame. "And I believe you happen to be standing in the lucky doorway. How's about a kiss for your favorite stepbrother?" He pointed to his cheek, grinning like a doofus.

Megan narrowed her eyes at him. "How's about you wake up tomorrow morning in the desert, five hundred miles from the nearest water supply?" Josh slumped a little in fear.

Drake moved toward his sister. "Ha, ha, Megan. Now look. Janie's mom's out there blowing her horn at you, and _we _have a party to get ready for. And the last time I checked, there were no little sisters on our guest list. So scram."

"Fine." Megan said, slinging her sleeping bag over her shoulder. She turned back when she reached the door. "Oh, and boobs? I wouldn't stand there if I were you. Unless there's something you want to tell me about." She puckered her lips and made a kissing noise.

Drake and Josh's eyes met, then simultaneously looked upward. They both clambered to make their way out of the doorway as quick as possible, knocking each other over in their haste. Josh fell into the counter and flipped the tray in the process, causing hors d'oeuvres to rain across the kitchen. Drake sat up and glared at Megan. "Very funny." Megan just smirked at her shrimp-covered brothers before heading out the front door.

"Sorry, man," Drake said, embarrassed.

"Hey, there's more in the oven." Josh shrugged, equally bashful. His Santa hat was lopsided and falling into his eyes, and he was covered in splatters of shrimpy goo; he looked like a big, loveable dork, and Drake couldn't help but grin at him. The awkwardness of the previous moment dissolved as Josh returned the smile.

Drake picked a stray piece of shrimp off of his brother's cheek and popped it into his mouth. "They're not bad this way, though." He went to swipe another fingerful, but Josh stopped him.

"Come on," he said, "let's clean this up. We've got a party to get ready for."

* * *

By seven o'clock, the Parker-Nichols household was overflowing with festive teenagers. In the living room, the couch had been pushed out of the way, and a group of people were bobbing their heads and swaying to the music. Josh had wanted to make a mix CD of classic Christmas music, but Drake eventually persuaded him that the Hailstones' Christmas album was a much better choice than chestnuts roasting on an open fire. Drake surveyed the crowd, coming to the realization that the ratio of hot girls to guys was quite excellent. He had his eye on one particular very hot girl, in fact—a blonde he'd appropriately dubbed "Pink Skirt," for lack of a better name. He'd seen her around school a few times, but he didn't really know much about her. Then again, he knew she had very nice curves, and very soft-looking lips that he really wanted to make out with before the end of the night, so he figured that was enough. He didn't see her in the crowd in the living room, though, so he made his way into the kitchen to grab another handful of Josh's delicious appetizers.

Upon entering the kitchen, he was greeted with one _very _appealing sight. Pink Skirt was leaning in the doorway between the kitchen and the foyer, talking to an equally attractive brunette whom Drake recognized from his math class. As he sauntered over to the two girls, a particularly brilliant idea popped into his head. Yep, this mistletoe thing was the best idea he'd had in a long time.

"Hey, hey, ladies," Drake said, stepping between them and putting his arms around both girls. "Having a good time, are we?" Pink Skirt nodded, although the dark-haired girl didn't seem too interested in Drake's advances. He didn't let that stand in the way of his plan. "You know, we happen to have a rule at this party. See, anyone who ends up under the mistletoe has to kiss whoever they're standing under it with. No exceptions." He looked up above the three of them. "And I believe you two are standing underneath the mistletoe with me. So you know what that means."

Pink Skirt giggled. "Do I get to kiss you first, or does she?"

Drake smiled wickedly. Here was his opportunity. "No, no... I am a gentleman, after all. So ladies first. I insist."

The other girl stared at Drake, a skeptical look on her face, but Pink Skirt blushed and let out a giddy laugh. "You mean... you want me to kiss her?"

"Yes, indeed," Drake responded. "After all, a rule is a rule, right?"

"And then I get to kiss you, too?"

Drake looked at her sweetly. "Would I break my own rule?" She giggled again, and before the dark-haired girl had a chance to protest, Pink Skirt eagerly puckered up. Drake held back a satisfied groan as he watched her press her lips against the other girl's lips. This was _so _the best party ever.

The look on the other girl's face after Pink Skirt pulled away told him he probably wasn't going to get any making out out of her tonight, but that didn't really matter, after what he'd just gotten to witness and what he hoped would happen next. He raised an eyebrow in Pink Skirt's direction. "You follow the rules _very _well," he said. "My turn now?" She nodded, and he leaned in to her, tasting an intriguing mix of two different flavors of lip gloss as he brushed his tongue across her lips.

* * *

It wasn't long before Drake was having second thoughts about his brilliant idea. Pink Skirt (he vaguely recalled that her name was Jessica, but at this point he didn't really care) had glued herself to Drake's side. The kissing wasn't even that great, and she'd broken their makeout sessions twice now with her awful, annoying laughter, saying that Drake's tongue was tickling the roof of her mouth. And the times when they weren't making out—well, that was almost enough to make Drake rethink his whole "kiss now, get to know later" policy when it came to cute girls. She was driving him crazy. As he listened to her rambling about something completely unfunny that he was only half paying attention to, he realized needed a way out. Now.

"And so I told her that 'Middle School Musical' was _totally _better than 'Susannah Louisiana,' but she said—" Drake glanced over her shoulder into the kitchen and saw Josh loading up a few trays of hors d'oeuvres in his arms. He figured it was time to make a break for it.

"Uh, that's great." He held up a hand, cutting her off. "But I'm thirsty, how about you? Okay, I'll get you a Mocha Cola," he blurted, leaping off the couch before she had a chance to respond. He bolted toward the kitchen, almost knocking Josh over in the process as he was coming out the door with the food. He grabbed ahold of his brother's arm and dragged him back into the kitchen.

"Having fun on the couch with your little friend?" Drake could sense a bit of bitterness in Josh's voice. That had been Josh's standard reaction whenever he was around one of Drake's girlfriends ever since he had broken up with the Creature for good a month ago. He rolled his eyes. Drake didn't see what the big deal was; Josh had had fifteen years of practice at being dateless, so why was he being all moody and jealous about it now?

Drake rolled his eyes. "No. Man, I am so sick of her already and we've only been dating for half an hour." Josh looked skeptical. "I'm serious, Josh. This girl's got, like, the IQ of a pretzel."

"A pretzel?" Josh had that look on his face that was reserved for times when Drake said or did something remarkably stupid. Drake chose to ignore it.

"And have you _heard _her laugh? She does this snorting thing—" Drake comically tried to imitate the noise— "that makes Kelly Hayfer's laugh sound like nothing." He shuddered at the memory.

"Mmhmm," Josh said, looking more interested in the tray of hors d'oevures he still had in his hand than in Drake's state of panic.

"Come on, dude," Drake said, snatching the tray out of his brother's hand and tossing it on the counter. "Focus. We're working on Operation Ditch Pink Skirt here."

"Pink Skirt? What is she, the sale of the week at A.C. Benney's?"

"Very funny." Josh moved toward the door into the foyer, but Drake grabbed his arm. "I've got it! Okay, you go in there, and you tell her that I'm moving to China to become a monastery, so I can't date her anymore."

It took a second for Josh's confusion to give way to another one of those deathly looks that came right before a Josh-splosion. "You mean missionary? Unless you want to have monks praying inside of you!"

"Huh?"

"And you only flunked English twice how?"

"Hey! I don't know who declared this let's-pick-on-Drake-day."

"Oops, my bad. That's the fifth of _every time you do something stupid_!"

"Okay, remember what I said about your sarcasm? And anyway, this is not helping. At all. I have got to get rid of—"

"Drakie?" Drake's heart sank at the sound of that voice. "Did you get the Mocha Colas yet?" Drake hung his head and felt his brother pat his shoulder, in a way that seemed more like Josh was enjoying the heck out of this than trying to comfort him. Then he heard the voice change into a high-pitched, timid giggle, and he looked up, puzzled. She was staring at Drake wide-eyed, leaning on the ledge looking into the kitchen.

"What's so funny?" Drake asked, annoyed. He glanced around for something to check his reflection in. He wasn't getting a zit, was he? Drake Parker did _not _get zits, not counting that one time in chemistry class when Josh decided he was done with him. That was a result of Josh withdrawal, so it was okay, but there was no excuse for it now.

Pink Skirt broke into one of her infamous snorting fits. "I think you forgot the rule," she said, when she finally caught her breath. She gestured upward, and Drake followed her hand to the green leaves dangling from the top of the doorway where he and Josh stood.

He was sure his face was as white as Josh's when he returned his brother's stare. They stood, frozen, for a moment, then broke into jumbled strings of words that tripped over top of each other and eventually fell into a heap of nonsense.

"What? You can't—I mean—he's my—but—but—"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. Do you have any—what are you—there is no WAY—"

"Are you _crazy_?" both boys finally managed to spit out in unison.

Pink Skirt just giggled again and shook her head. "Nope. You said a rule is a rule, right?" Drake scowled, not really at her, but at the fact he couldn't figure out whether she was too stupid or too smart for his own good. "So," she said, pointing at him playfully, "I'm not leaving this party until you play by your own rules."

Now a statement like _that _was something that could change Drake's whole opinion of this situation. He grabbed Josh's wrist and leaned in, speaking quietly. "Dude, did you hear that? She'll leave the party if we just get this over with."

"Drake..." Josh said, warningly. "Besides, I don't think she meant it that way."

"Come on, man, it's not like we haven't done this before, right? It's not like it means anything." Josh sighed unhappily, but Drake wasn't in the mood for protests. "Let's just get this over with and get on with the party, without her."

It wasn't long before Josh gave in, just as he always did when it came to Drake's crazy schemes. "Fine," he muttered. "But you better keep your tongue where it belongs, mister!"

Drake just rolled his eyes at that. He turned to Pink Skirt. "Fine," he said. "Happy?" Then he leaned in, writing off the butterflies in his stomach as nervousness about what this being seen might do to his coolness, and pressed his lips against Josh's.

It was supposed to be a quick kiss, just a little peck on the lips to shut her and her stupid laugh up for good, but something changed before Drake could even fully realize it himself. He felt his lips move ever so slightly against Josh's, which were warm and rough and almost inviting against his own, and he didn't move away. His eyes opened wide when he felt his knees weaken the tiniest bit, and he met Josh's own flushed stare inches away.

Then Drake pulled away quickly, stunned, and walked out of the room.


	2. Chapter 2

**Fic:** Playing By The Rules (Chapter 2/3)  
**Author:** justinebeckoning  
**Pairing:** Drake/Josh  
**Rating:** a strong K+ to mild T  
**Disclaimer:** I am not Dan Schneider and therefore do not own anything. However, if Dan Schneider wants some slashy ideas for the Christmas movie, that's fine by me…  
**Warnings:** Slash, although it's a bit one-sided at this point.  
**Author's Note:** A huge, huge thank you goes out to SecretPleasures for the very helpful look-over, the moral support, and for generally keeping my head from exploding these past few days. She is awesome, and you should all applaud her for putting up with my rantings, and then go read all her fics and give her comments of powerlove on them. :) Anyway, this chapter isn't as much of a transition as it might seem.

Drake rolled over on his back and sighed. His alarm clock read 2:47. That meant it had been another... four minutes? He'd been lying awake for almost three hours now, staring at the ceiling and trying not to think. He threw off the covers and wiped the slightly sweaty hair out of his eyes. It was too hot, that was all. And this pajama shirt was itchy. Why had he even worn it to bed in the first place? It was simple. That was the reason he couldn't sleep. He'd just sit up, toss the shirt off, and he'd be asleep in no time, right?

His back hit the mattress again with a thud. Well, that was no help. Now the sheets were just itchy against his skin. He groaned. It was no use. He'd just lie here all night and count the CDs in his CD jacket on the wall over and over until his mind went numb.

Wait. Maybe he and Josh had missed some stuff when they were cleaning up from the party. Yeah, that was it, he was sure of it. Mom and Walter would come downstairs in the morning and they'd find a pile of cups stashed somewhere in the living room that maybe didn't smell exactly like punch. _That _was what he was worried about. He sat up again. He'd just run downstairs, check everything over, and—

His brother snored from across the room and rolled over on his side away from him, and Drake gave up. He knew why he couldn't sleep. He wasn't a complete idiot. It had nothing to do with cups, pajamas, or anything that didn't have to do with Josh's lips against his. He flopped back down on the bed.

There wasn't any reason why he should be freaking out about this. It wasn't like he hadn't kissed Josh before. He'd kissed him a lot of times in the four years they'd been stepbrothers, even on the lips a few times. There was the Oprah kiss, of course, but that had been such a blur he hadn't been sure what he felt, and by the time it was over, he'd had the fear of Megan putting the picture up on the internet to keep him from actually thinking about what had happened. Then there was the first time he'd heard "Makes Me Happy" played on the radio, but he would've kissed anyone in the room then, so that definitely didn't count. In fact, he had—he'd kissed his mom, too, and had only stopped short of Megan when she'd warned him that his guitar would end up at the bottom of the ocean if he so much as thought about it. Kissing Josh that time was nothing but a result of his excitement. They were just an invola—ivolunt—oh, just forget it, they didn't mean anything. Right?

He allowed himself to calm down as he was lulled into replaying the memory. The thought of the kiss itself, without all the confusion that surrounded it, was actually not bad at all, even if he didn't want to really admit it. It was warm around the edges and made him want to smile, like snuggling up half-awake inside his covers in the morning. He let himself recreate the scene in his head—how new and kind of interesting it was to feel stubble scraping against his chin, how the warmth of Josh's chest just inches from his reminded him of so many wrestling matches and nights spent watching cheesy movies on the couch, how more and more things about the whole event felt sort of... well, right, in some weird way.

_Snap out of it, _his mind yelled. _That's crazy talk. _He suddenly felt very self-conscious, lying in bed wearing only his boxers and thinking about doing _that_ with his _stepbrother_. He pulled the covers up to his neck, but it only made him feel a little less exposed. _Quit being a spaz, _he told himself. All he'd done was kiss somebody, which he did all the time, and it hadn't meant anything, which it never did. Not with all those random girls or with anyone.

But he couldn't keep lying to himself. He'd felt something he wasn't used to feeling during the kiss, that was for sure, and it had nothing to do with the whole kissing-a-boy-who-oh-yeah-happened-to-be-Josh thing. Kissing girls was easy and it made sense to him; he didn't have to think about it at all by now. So what if there were never fireworks? Fireworks were for lame chick flicks, and the only thing that Drake Parker had in common with chick flicks was that they both contained one _very _attractive and sexy guy with girls swooning all over him.

Okay, maybe _that _was a bad example. He did not just call guys in chick flicks sexy, just like he did not enjoy kissing Josh any more than he should have. He stuffed that thought back into whatever depths it came from and pulled his pillow over his face. Man, this not-thinking thing was working out real well.

But even if kissing girls was easy and comfortable, it wasn't like kissing Josh was uncomfortable, was it? Everything he did with Josh was comfortable, he realized. Even when it was complicated and confusing, too.

Well, except for tonight. The one thing he did know was that couldn't take much more of this. After the kiss, after he'd bolted out of the kitchen like a girl, he hadn't been able to put three words together to Josh all night. Instead, he'd sucked it up and gone back to making out with Pink Skirt, even making a date with her Tuesday night out of complete desperation. He figured another dose of her annoying laughter would be more than enough to keep his mind off his other problems. He didn't know if Josh was hurt because Drake was avoiding him, or just disgusted, but after that, Josh certainly went out of his way to ignore him, too. So they'd cleaned up and put the living room back in order afterward in silence, leaving at least three feet between them at all times, and they'd gone to bed with nothing more than a mumbled "g'night" and a nod of the head. Was this how it was going to be from now on, Drake wondered, all because he couldn't keep his stupid hormones in check? He pounded the pillow against his face as hard as he could, repeatedly. Stupid hot girls, stupid brilliant ideas, and stupid, stupid lips of his that couldn't have just made it quick and have been done with it.

He thought he heard Josh murmur something, and he darted his head out from underneath his pillow, horrified. Josh knew. Josh had read his mind somehow and had caught him thinking about the kiss, and he was going to come over here any minute and start slapping him like a girl and yelling at him for having the nerve to think such crazy things. He lay very still, deciding that if Josh had read his mind but thought Drake was asleep, he wouldn't be so mad about it, because he'd realize that Drake had no control over his thoughts while he was dreaming.

But he heard no footsteps coming across their room and saw no figure climbing the ladder up to his bed. He exhaled slowly.

"Josh?" he called out, his voice barely above a whisper.

He heard his brother mumbling sleepily—he caught something about Oprah and a bubble bath, which made him have to fight so hard to resist running into the bathroom and standing with his ear up to the faucet so he could wash that image out of his brain forever—but the muttering trailed off into a light snore, and then silence.

"Josh?" he asked, a little louder. "You awake?"

No answer. He breathed a sigh of relief.

It felt good to actually speak, Drake thought. He'd been keeping so many words inside of him all night, and with no way out, they'd buzzed around the insides of his brain like bees, flying faster and angrier the more they realized how trapped they were. But just saying Josh's name out loud was enough to let some of the bees go free, even if he feared they'd only fly back at him and sting him eventually. For right now, though, the release felt kind of good, and if Drake had one weakness, it was that he could never say no to something that felt good.

"Look, Josh," he started, quietly. "I know you're probably kind of mad at me right now, or hurt, or… something. I'm sorry. I guess. I mean, I know it doesn't matter, since you can't even hear me right now, but I guess I was kind of a dick tonight avoiding you for the rest of the party and all." He paused, waiting to see if Josh would stir, or mumble something in response, but without his own voice all he heard was the same suffocating silence that had been driving him insane all night.

"Well, I'm sorry," he continued. "I didn't want to be a jerk, but I guess I didn't know what else to do, right?" This was the hard part. "I... maybe I was just freaked out. Because of the... you know. The thing." He paused. "And maybe because of how I, um…" he squeaked out, just barely. He couldn't say it, not even if he was basically talking to himself. He'd spent the better part of three years, and probably longer than that if he really wanted to be really honest with himself (which he didn't), hardly being able to form these kinds of words in his mind, instead burying them underneath another pretty girl with eager lips that he knew would only take his mind off of things for a week or so. Now here he was, thinking he'd be able to actually say this stuff out loud? He had to find a way out of this right now.

"But that's crazy, right, man? I mean, psh, it's not like it was a real kiss or anything. Right? Just because you kissed me when I got you backstage passes to see Oprah doesn't mean you want to jump me right there on the couch and make out with me." He felt the blood rush to his face as he dwelled on that image for one second too long. "Um, okay," he backtracked. "Yeah. Bad example."

He laughed nervously. "What I mean is, it didn't mean anything. Of course not." He made a dismissive face and added a wave of his hand for effect, even though he knew no one was looking. "I mean, people kiss their moms and stuff, and it doesn't mean anything gross or weird." He thought about how that sounded and jumped to clarify. "Dude! Not that I think of you like I think of my mom. Or that kissing you is gross or weird or something. It's not even technically—" What was that word again for it? "I mean, we're only stepbrothers, so it's not like we're going to have a baby with a tail or something." Shit. There he went again with the coming out all wrong and the bad thoughts.

"Okay. Forget that." He rubbed his eyes as hard as he could, hoping it would straighten out the wrinkles in his brain somehow. "All I'm saying is that that was all it was. We kissed. That's it. It wasn't weird, or... romantic, or anything like that at all, except over, which is what it is right now. Over." Did he really sound as unconvincing as he felt? "And I should know about stuff like that, 'cause maybe I'm not smart like you, but I know my kissing. I'm, like, the best kisser at Belleview High School, and probably one of the top ten kissers in San Diego." He laughed nervously. "And this was absolutely not some out-of-the-ordinary, awesome, amazing kiss. Because I should know. So we'll both probably wake up in the morning and have forgotten all about it."

"Right?"

Josh's only response was a snore that came out somewhat muffled by Mr. Puff-Puff, but it was enough of an answer for Drake. He flopped his face into his pillow dramatically.

"Yeah, yeah," he muttered into the pillow. "You're right, Josh. As usual." He groaned and braced himself for the fact that he would absolutely not be forgetting about this completely out-of-the-ordinary mess any time soon.


	3. Chapter 3

**Title:** Playing By The Rules (Chapter 3/3)  
**Author:** justinebeckoning  
**Pairing:** Drake/Josh  
**Rating:** a strong PG/mild PG-13  
**Disclaimer:** I am not Dan Schneider and therefore do not own anything. However, if Dan Schneider wants some slashy ideas for the Christmas movie, that's fine by me…  
**Author's Note:** Well, more than a month after I said I'd have the last chapter up, it's finally done (and I met my goal of two fic postings in a week!). I've put this off for a while and finally decided to get this out of the way today. I'm not tremendously happy with it... as has become par for the course with this story, it seems, I've been doing the self-doubting/rewriting/self-doubting/rewriting thing ad nauseum. But I'm just ready to move on from this, I think, so I'm going for broke. It's far from perfect, but it's completed, and that's kind of all that matters right now.

Josh's car was the only one in the driveway when Drake arrived home Tuesday evening. _Great_, he thought, thumping his head against the steering wheel. He'd hoped Josh wouldn't be home from his shift at the Premiere yet. Drake had been pretty successful at avoiding him ever since the morning of the… well, the problem, and tonight had already been bad enough without all that staring him in the face all night long.

And boy, was it a problem. Between panicking about his own mixed-up feelings, and the fact he was sure his brother thought he was some kind of pervert for doing, well, _that_,to him, he couldn't even pay attention to the awful week he'd been having. There was the fight with his band, partly because he'd blown off practice Sunday afternoon (in his defense, pulling the covers over his head and moping had sounded like a good excuse), and partly because he'd lost them an important gig when he'd forgotten to call the club to confirm. The guys just didn't understand that he had way more important things on his mind right now than stupid snippy club managers, although there was no way in hell he was explaining to them what those things were. Then he'd gotten his report card in the mail, which told him with a big red F that he'd be repeating geometry again next semester. And on top of it all, tonight had been way more humiliating than he'd even thought was possible. He swatted angrily at the cowlick sticking up from the middle of his head, which had come back this morning from the depths of his second grade nightmares, but all that did was make his head sore and his mood worse. For the second time in his life, Drake Parker was a jittery, thoroughly uncool mess all because of Josh Nichols, and he didn't even care.

Drake made it up to their room and headed straight for the refrigerator. Josh didn't move from his spot on the couch. "Hey," Josh said, then turned his attention back to the rerun of the Blaine Darvey special he was watching. Drake braced himself for another night of forced conversation as he rummaged through the cans and bottles in his search for the two-liter he was seeking.

"Dude, where's the Mountain Fizz?" he asked, noticing afterward how irritated he sounded.

"Finished it yesterday. I told Mom to pick up some more on her way home from Megan's oboe recital." Great, he was stuck with Diet Mocha Cola.

Normally, Drake would've plopped himself down on the couch sideways and thrown his legs over top of his brother's lap, settling in for the evening. As bad as he needed it right now, he knew that wasn't going to happen any time soon. The two of them falling asleep on the couch together would just give him more to freak out about, anyway, which he did not need. He tried to focus on something else, anything, just to keep his mind from exploding as a result of the places that thought could go.

"Is that the one where they buried him in quicksand?" Well, that was better than nothing, he supposed. He nodded toward the television, hovering halfway between the refrigerator and the couch.

"Nope." Josh turned around, his face not really meeting Drake's. "It's the one where he goes down into the erupting volcano and grills hamburgers on the lava." Drake carefully sat on the arm of the couch, leaving as much distance between him and Josh as possible without falling off.

"You're home early."

"Yeah, so are you." Josh smiled a little, a real smile, and for a moment everything was the way it was supposed to be again. Drake wanted so badly to scoot over and collapse into a "hug me, brotha" that would make everything better, and he almost believed it could.

"How was your date with Jessica?" Way to end the moment. Drake made a face. "That bad? What happened?" Josh was still acting funny, but at least he didn't seem disgusted, just… nervous? Or maybe it was just him that was nervous. He'd stopped being able to tell the difference about two days ago.

"Worse," Drake grumbled. Of course. Now Josh finally wanted to talk. He would have happily taken the three days of Josh mumbling any excuse he could to stay out of their room over _this_. But no, now Josh was looking at him like he actually wanted Drake to answer. He wondered if Josh would believe him if he said she got into a laughing fit and snorted so hard that her nose burst into pieces in front of the whole restaurant. That would be better, and less horrifying, than what had actually happened.

"She dumped me," he said.

"What?" Oh, Josh just had to look so amused by it, didn't he? Great. This couldn't get any worse, could it? "_She _dumped _you_? Why would she do that?" Well, hello, worse. Drake swallowed the knot in his throat and decided to just go for it.

"…shesdIwsbadksr." Or maybe not, since his mouth had made the decision for him to stop forming words correctly. Josh could try to figure that one out for himself.

"Dude, are you okay?" Josh reached over and put a hand on his shoulder, and just the little bit of physical contact was enough to make Drake snap.

"No!" He shot up off the couch. "I said, she told me I was a bad kisser." Luckily, he was facing away from Josh in the midst of his pacing fit, so he didn't have to know if he was about to start laughing hysterically, or was just horrified that Drake had actually said the word "kiss." Since it was the only distraction he had from the sick feeling that the word left in his own stomach, he continued his yelling. "She said I didn't put enough 'feeling' into it or something." So maybe she had a point there—after all, he hadn't really been concentrating on kissing _her_, but Josh didn't need to know that. "I know she's a total nutcase and everything, but there is no way someone could be _that_ crazy. I mean, come on. I'm an expert at kissing girls." He stressed that last word to emphasize its importance. "I'm Drake Parker. I'm the best kisser at Belleview High School."

"Uh-huh," Josh muttered, with the tiniest bit of sarcasm. "And probably among the top ten in the greater San Diego area."

Drake whirled around from his place near the window. "What?"

Oh, no. Josh did not just say that. There was absolutely no way that he had just said that.

"B-but you were asleep! How—you were snoring and talking about Oprah and everything! That's not fair—what the—" Then Drake's full-blown panic mode started to kick in as he remembered all the other things he'd said that night. "Wait, how much did you hear?"

Josh stared at him like he'd just rattled off a whole novel in the Martian gobbledygook talk they'd used when they'd pretended to be aliens to scare Megan. "What?"

Well. This was really, really bad.

He spiraled into damage control immediately. "Wh-what? Did I say you were asleep? I meant _I_ was asleep. I mean, if you heard anything, which you didn't, that was just me talkin' in my sleep like I always do. Yeah, probably having some crazy dream—" This was going nowhere _real_ fast. "I mean, no way, I wasn't dreaming about—"

"Drake? Seriously, what's up with you?" Josh stood and moved toward him. "You've been acting strange all week." He paused, and his voice became quiet. "This is about that mistletoe thing at the party, isn't it?"

"No!" Drake could feel his cheeks bursting with heat. "Of-of course not. I don't even—"

"Look, if it was that disgusting, you could've just come out and said it, okay?" Josh's whole body seemed to shrink in a little. "I mean, I suppose I'm not up to your usual kissing standards and all, but I'm sorry if it was so revolting that—"

That sent Drake's brain right over the edge. What was going on? He wasn't even sure anymore. One minute Josh was messing with his mind about the other night, the next he was all insulted that Drake would think he was a horrible kisser. Did Josh seriously think _that_ was why he was so upset? _No, _his mind screamed. _No, you weren't a horrible kisser, you doofus. In fact, you were an awesome kisser. Happy? You went and infected me with your… incredibly-good-kisser germs, or something, and now I can't go five minutes without thinking about it. There is no way I should be thinking about how that was probably the best kiss of my entire life, which is just ridiculous, because it _didn't mean anything at all_. No, sir. No way._

Except all it took was one look at Josh's reaction to realize that it apparently wasn't just his mind that had been screaming.

A little part of Drake wondered if there was any way he could walk out their bedroom door right now, come back up the stairs, and convince Josh that the last ten minutes was a crazy dream brought on by eating an extreme amount of churros. Maybe his stepbrother would be too distracted by the mention of the fried pastries that he wouldn't notice Drake curling up in a hole and dying.

An unidentifiable expression crossed Josh's face briefly, but then he relaxed. "Okay." He shrugged. "Well, it's good to know I'm better in that area than I thought, I guess." He turned from Drake and moved to leave.

Drake bounded toward the door to block Josh's exit, tripping over his own feet several times in the process, and screeched to a clumsy stop, holding onto the door frame for support. He'd just discovered about six new levels of confusion that he hadn't been aware existed until a few moments ago. "Wh-where are you going?" His words were gravelly and drained, and they burned on the way out.

Josh just kept on in the same infuriatingly calm voice. "Take a shower, I guess," he replied. "You should probably get ready for bed, too."

Josh attempted to take a step forward, but Drake grabbed his arm. "Wait. So you're not mad, or disgusted, or anything?"

He shrugged again. "Nope. Why would I be? You yourself said it didn't mean anything. So I guess we should forget all about it, huh?"

Drake wasn't as thrilled with that answer as he should have been. "That's all?" he asked.

Josh nodded, then thought for a second. "Well, one more thing. If you're going to make a rule, you know, you really should try to follow it yourself." Seeing that Drake was completely baffled, Josh cocked his head upward. Drake followed his motion and came face-to-face with the small patch of pointy leaves and berries dangling above them.

"You jerk!" he blurted, once he overcame his initial shock. He slapped Josh's arm, hard, and gave him his best angry look. He should've been furious, and he still wasn't quite sure of everything that was happening, but he felt the same tentative smile that Josh was wearing creep over his face. So what if this was some sick joke on Josh's part? He was just relieved that they could at least joke about it. "You were awake the whole time, weren't you? Jerk!"

"Dude. I might be a heavy sleeper, but I'm not deaf." Josh grinned sheepishly, and Drake slapped him a few more times for good measure.

Josh held up his hands in defense. "Ow! Quit it!" He laughed a little, an unsure sort of laugh, and before he knew it, Drake was laughing too.

"Nope. You deserve it," Drake said, chuckling in spite of the fact a small part of him was still pretty horrified. "Although I have to admit, I'm pretty impressed. I didn't think you had it in you to be that evil."

Josh looked adorably proud of his scheming ways. "Four years of living under the same roof as Megan is finally starting to rub off on me, I guess."

Drake ran a hand through his hair and laughed. "You have no idea how crazy I've been going these past couple of days."

"Me too, brotha," Josh said. "Me too." His eyes dropped to his shoes. "And I probably still would be if you wouldn't have made it so easy. I mean, it took me three whole days to get up the nerve to do anything about it, even after I knew you… felt the same way."

Drake's eyebrow shot up. Okay, he was definitely imagining things now. Really good things, so he wasn't complaining, but still.

"You mean…" He gestured to Josh, then up above them. "This isn't just you getting back at me for being a jerk at the party?"

Josh stared at him like he'd lost his mind. "Dude. I'm not _that_ evil."

"Then you mean you…" He trailed off. He didn't know whether to be ridiculously happy or ridiculously nauseous, although the first option was quickly winning out as he watched his stepbrother chew on his lower lip and slowly nod his head. "Whoa." He felt dizzy, in a way that wasn't entirely unpleasant at all. "But… when did you…"

"I don't know." Josh shrugged thoughtfully. "I guess there wasn't really one point where I figured it out. I didn't have to—I guess I've always kind of known. I mean, even with Mindy, it wasn't really the same. We were always… us." Drake shook his head. Leave it to Josh to have something like this all figured out way ahead of him. But he was right. It shouldn't have surprised him. They'd never really acted the way normal stepsiblings were supposed to—because they weren't. They were them.

"So… are we gonna do this or not?"

Looking at Josh staring at him, waiting, he felt something entirely new in the pit of his stomach. It was anticipation, sure, but combined with something else… lack of confidence? Man, this was ridiculous. Was this what the rest of the world felt before kissing somebody?

"Hey. I'm nervous, too." Shoot, Josh knew him too well. "But it's not like we haven't done this before, right?" They exchanged smiles, and in the moment before Josh leaned in toward him, he didn't think he'd ever been so nervous, or so ready, for something in his whole life.

And this time, when Drake pressed his lips against Josh's, he didn't feel like running anywhere. He just wrapped his arms around Josh and held on tight.


End file.
